


I've heard one on you

by olive2read



Series: I've Heard One On You [1]
Category: Big Bad Wolf Series - Charlie Adhara
Genre: Alternate POV, Angst, Brooding, Canon Compliant, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21817075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2read
Summary: Two pivotal moments retold from Oliver's point of view
Relationships: Cooper Dayton/Oliver Park
Series: I've Heard One On You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758076
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	1. there's a fire starting in my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisissirius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/gifts).



> Thank you so much for requesting this fandom! I really love these two so much and it was a joy to write from Oliver's PoV. I hope you enjoy this! Happy Yuletide!  
> <3
> 
> * * *
> 
> My deepest gratitude to my awesome beta, [Zee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeelosRN), without whom this would not be anything close to the fic it is!
> 
> All titles from Adele's "Rolling in the Deep"
> 
> * * *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's PoV of their first meeting

When someone bumped into him on the metro, Oliver felt his whole body stiffen and tried, unsuccessfully, to consciously remind his muscles to relax. This was just some random person on the metro who couldn’t keep their balance as the train moved. He didn’t need to step away to avoid the threat. Besides, there wasn’t anywhere for him to step _to_.

The train was unexpectedly full for a Sunday morning, as a number of the passengers were carrying brightly coloured placards demanding stronger environmental standards for corporations. Most were fairly general (‘CLIMATE CHANGE IS REAL’), some had rhyming slogans (‘BE THE SOLUTION NOT THE POLLUTION’), and a few were clever enough to make him chuckle (notably ‘INCREASE SEXUAL EMISSIONS DECREASE CARBON EMISSIONS’ and ‘MARCHING FOR FACTS’). He scanned through them and decided that ‘🦖 DON’T BE FOSSIL FOOLS 🦖’ was his favourite.

He so admired these people for getting up early on a Sunday to fight for a cause they believed in. Part of him wished that he had the energy and inclination to join them, to fight for everyone’s future, but, even as he felt a pang of yearning pass through him, his more cynical side was already reminding him that humans were the ones who’d caused the environmental problems in the first place. He was on his way to begin cleaning up an entirely different, and much more immediate, mess that humans had made and he just didn’t have it in him to take on more. 

The person who’d jostled him mumbled some sort of apology, backing out of his space, and Oliver couldn’t stop a tiny sigh of relief from escaping. He hated that touch avoidance had become his default, hated the wariness he’d been forced to develop, but it was definitely safer. He felt adrift, cut off from his pack, unwilling to trust the wolves around him to give him the physical closeness he longed for, and unable to trust any humans to do so, especially considering that he was on his way to meet with the Bureau of Special Investigations about what they had assumed was yet another ‘werewolf gone wild.’

His fists clenched at the thought and he uncurled them again with an effort. He huffed out a breath. The BSI had theoretically been set up to handle the human side of human-werewolf interactions since the coming out but all they ever seemed to do was assault and kill any werewolf they came into contact with. As far as the Trust could tell, no one ever bothered with the “I” in BSI, instead acting like government-sanctioned bounty hunters who never stopped to confirm that the wolves they targeted had even been involved in whatever crime they’d been accused of. 

He caught a whiff of an egg sandwich and rolled his eyes at himself as his stomach grumbled, though the physical reminder that he needed to relax was a welcome one. He forced himself to take steady even breaths, nice deep inhales and smooth long exhales, and tried to keep a grimace off his face. The sandwich was the best smelling thing on this crowded train by a wide margin. 

Thus far he wasn’t enjoying his time in DC. Everything was crowded and dirty and grey, and, however uncomfortable the idea of being back in Florence made him, he was looking forward to spending time somewhere he could breathe deeply again.

Ugh. The thought of Florence, and what awaited him there, sent him right back to brooding about his next assignment. He’d been anxious about it all weekend and the closer he got to the meeting time, the more tension he could feel building. The thought of spending time in a place that held so many memories of the wolf he’d been before was painful and more than a little terrifying.

He was glad that the timing meant none of his family would be in town. It would be difficult enough to perform his assumed persona on this assignment in front of people who’d known him since he was a pup. Navigating that, while making a show of collaboration with the BSI, was already keeping him up at night. He wouldn’t be able to cope with his family, on top of everything else. 

From what he knew of the BSI, cooperating with them in any capacity—even knowing what he would really be there to do—was going to be challenging. He’d seen enough to know that most BSI agents were firm believers that the only good wolf was a dead wolf and very soon it was going to be Oliver’s job to work with the man they’d identified as likely the very worst in an agency full of unscrupulous bigots.

He understood, at least intellectually, what Cola was hoping to achieve with this new partnership but he couldn’t bring himself to put any stock in it working. Oliver was going to be spending all his time gathering the evidence the Trust needed to confirm his so-called ‘partner’s’ involvement in the recent wolf disappearances, while preventing him from adding more wolves to his victim pool, not to mention doing all the actual work to solve the case they were ostensibly partnering to investigate. He didn’t think he’d have much time to spare for improving the future of wolf-human interactions, at least not where the BSI was concerned.

Oliver felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing up, indicating the stranger who’d bumped into him previously was once more encroaching into his personal space. He took a calming breath and decided to ignore it again, since metro riders disrespecting personal space wasn’t exactly news to him, until his ears pricked up (figuratively, at least) at the sound of a deep inhale. Was the person _sniffing_ him? He hadn’t caught the tell-tale scent of another wolf, his ongoing sensory assessment hadn’t raised any red flags, and, unlike many of his fellow passengers, his hygiene was impeccable. So why on Earth—?

His own nose tingled with the sharp scent of arousal and he had a sudden urge to inhale deeply, to capture that tendril and hold it inside himself. He took a cautious inhale of his own, knowing he could manage it more subtly than the stranger. Having his back to his target made identifying the specific group of scents he sought a bit of a challenge but, with both the arousal and what he’d picked up in the initial bump to go on, he’d soon teased out the various scents wreathing the stranger. He was pleasantly surprised by what he found there or, rather, by what he _didn’t_. 

Oliver generally avoided smelling humans too closely. Most of them were a more vicious assault on his nose than a Yankee Candle store. There were the obvious things, like conflicting deodorant and cologne, but it had always struck him as bizarre that they never stopped to consider how the amalgamation of differently scented body wash, shampoo, conditioner, moisturiser, hair products, laundry detergent, etc was entirely off-putting.

He could smell the breakfast sandwich he’d noticed earlier, coffee, and a light combination of only one or two products—all of which he was able to parse easily to get at the person’s underlying scent plus the heady addition of arousal. He felt goosebumps break out along his shoulders and the nape of his neck, though they thankfully didn’t spread into any of the areas his skin was exposed.

He fought the urge to turn around and introduce himself to this stranger who smelled so tantalising. If this were another day, and not one where he needed to prepare himself up for the meeting ahead, he would jump at the chance to make a new connection. It had been so long...

The smell of arousal was suddenly replaced by the cold stench of fear. He felt his hackles rise as his eyes darted around the train car, cataloguing everything that had changed in the few minutes since he’d last assessed his surroundings, but there was no obvious threat he could identify. What had the stranger reacted to?

His training had him on full alert, somehow his instincts had already decided that this person was someone who needed his protection. He liked to think that he wasn’t so very shallow, or so very desperate, that he’d classified as ‘pack’ the first person who’d expressed sexual interest in him in ages but, then again, here he was.

He mentally shook himself. No. He knew himself—he _trusted_ himself, trusted his wolf—and his wolf had decided he would gladly step between this stranger and whatever had triggered the wave of fear.

The trouble was, there didn’t seem to be _anything_ to protect against. Once again, he considered turning around, introducing himself and taking the opportunity to observe the person’s eyes and body language to help evaluate the threat but the spike of fear had already receded, gone as quickly as it had come. Perhaps the trigger hadn’t been anything on the train but some memory or association, something Oliver would be powerless to fight without more information.

The metro screeched to a halt and Oliver was jarred from his musing by the realisation he’d reached his stop. As he made his way toward the doors, he spent a moment fantasising about missing the meeting. It would be awkward and ultimately pointless, so wouldn’t his time be better spent on discovering whatever was going on with the person behind him? Maybe the stranger was one of the protesters and they could go to the climate rally together. Instead of fighting against bigots who wanted to keep the status quo firmly in place, Oliver could spend the day fighting beside people who believed not only in their cause but also in their ability to affect change on a systemic scale.

They could explore their obvious attraction. Maybe they’d get to talking and make a real connection, something solid they could both depend on as they continued in their respective fights. He’d be open to examining the aspects of his life that might be negatively impacting the environment. Partnership was compromise, after all, and building trust. Oliver liked the feel of hemp well enough, he could see himself switching over to more sustainable clothing choices and, maybe, this would finally be someone he could share himself, his whole self, with. Someone who wouldn’t flinch from his wolf, who would embrace it. Someone who could support his principles. Someone he could make a home with.

But, even as the fantasy played itself out in his head, those same principles had him stepping off the train, ignoring the sounds of some minor commotion behind him, and heading toward his meeting. It wasn’t just that he knew Cola would see right through any ‘accidental’ absence on his part. Not to mention that, after everything they’d been through, and everything she’d done for him, she deserved better than a blow-off.

The BSI was rotten at its core and, though he had little faith in the ‘partnership’ aspects of this new project, the knowledge that he could help remove the rot helped motivate his steps. If they could present the BSI leadership with the necessary evidence, they could dismantle the problematic aspects of the system and rebuild. This could be his chance—finally—to begin repairing the damage he’d done to the werewolf community. He squared his shoulders with grim determination and quickened his step, ready to get this morning’s meeting over with. The BSI believed enough negative stereotypes about wolves, he didn't want to reinforce them by arriving late.

“Wait,” someone called out. “Hold the door please.” There was something about that voice, something warm that slid right through his ears to uncurl deep in his belly. Without consciously deciding to do so, Oliver found himself turning around, stepping back toward the closing doors, and wedging them open with his shoulder. “Hold the—”

To Oliver’s surprise, instead of taking advantage of the held doors, the man stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened as they roved down Oliver’s body and then back up. When he made no move forward, Oliver indulged himself in a similar perusal. The man was tall, only a little shorter than Oliver himself, with dark blond hair and avid green eyes that Oliver wanted to get lost in. He wore a rumpled, coffee-stained, ill-fitting suit and there was a hollow, sunken look to his face that made Oliver wonder if he was eating and sleeping properly. Whatever his dietary habits, his sexual appetites were on full display as he looked hungrily at Oliver. Those gorgeous sparkling emerald eyes were devouring him. They rose slowly to meet his own with a start and a pretty pink flush drifted across those too-thin cheeks as the man straightened in embarrassment. Oliver kept his smile gentle, encouraging, doing his utmost to convey that the interest was most definitely reciprocated.

“Uh, thank you,” the guy said, his voice husky. He looked away and didn’t say anything further, moving past Oliver and toward the exit. Considering the eye-fucking he’d just given him, the departure felt abrupt. Not sure what to do, and realising the stranger was headed in the same direction he was, Oliver kept pace with him. He didn’t say anything, just waited patiently, daring to hope, and was rewarded when the guy snuck another sidelong glance at him and wheezed out a laugh.

Oliver smiled sympathetically at the guy’s awkwardness. He hadn’t met someone so clearly interested in him in _ages_. He wanted to suggest they go somewhere, perhaps to grab a coffee to replace the one the stranger seemed to be wearing more than drinking, or, better yet, maybe they could save the coffee for afterwards. He stifled the urge. It was the worst luck that he didn’t have a chance to do anything about it right now. If he didn’t have this meeting, if he hadn’t been scheduled to fly out in a few hours, if he was free from all the obligations weighing on him, if if if.

Then again, it wouldn’t hurt to exchange numbers. Surely he could spare that much time. Whatever happened with this new project, he would probably be stationed in DC for the foreseeable future and a hot prospect with captivating green eyes could help alleviate the dreariness of this city. Maybe the guy would be interested in more than just sex and Oliver could cook for him, care for him—it had been so long since he’d had anyone to truly care for and he found himself yearning to erase those dark circles. He remembered the moment of fear from the metro, and the way his instincts had screamed at him to protect, and wondered just what it was that was interrupting the sleep of this tempting stranger. What monsters were terrorising him and would he let Oliver help fight them?

He shook himself. What was it about this man that had Oliver constantly spinning wild dreams of impossible futures? There was no sense creating an entire future for them before they’d even introduced themselves properly. All he could say for certain at this point was that his ego was getting a very welcome boost.

He wanted an entire future, though, and he couldn’t ignore his response to this stranger. Every fibre of his being was vibrating with the connection. His veins were coursing with the satisfaction of having found what he’d been searching for. Something about him was telling Oliver, in no uncertain terms, that here was pack.

“Well,” the man began, raising his hand to wave and spattering coffee onto his wrist. “Aw, shit.” His eyes darted from the spill, to his briefcase, to the ground, to the crowd of people striding around them. It looked like he was trying to determine where he should put his coffee.

“I wouldn’t risk it,” Oliver said, trying (and failing) to suppress the widening of his grin, “if I were you.” Here was the opening he’d been hoping for. He reached into his pocket, where he’d stashed the extra napkin from his breakfast. “May I?”

When the stranger didn’t say anything, Oliver delicately mopped up the coffee, sliding his fingers up under the man’s cuffs. Ostensibly he was ensuring that he cleaned up all the drips but, really, he just wanted an excuse to feel the glorious pounding of the man’s pulse against his skin. He knew he’d made the right decision when he heard the stranger’s breath catch. His nostrils flared as he picked up the tantalising aroma of the man’s arousal. It was just as heady as it had been on the metro. Oliver licked his lips in anticipation of finding out just what had prompted the earlier extended inhale, the sensation that had first brought him to Oliver’s notice.

The man cleared his throat. “This really hasn’t been my day,” he said.

Oliver felt his smile grow. “You know,” he replied, “I thought the same thing this morning. But mine just recently started to turn around.” He looked up into the man’s eyes. “Perhaps yours will too...?” he asked, expectantly.

“Ah,” and there was that pretty pink flush again, “Cooper. Cooper Dayton.” 

Oliver’s smile died, his interest shrivelling up as his heart clenched in denial at the name. Maybe it was a coincidence? Cooper Dayton wasn’t exactly a common name but, surely, this couldn’t be the same person. Of all the rotten luck. Oliver forced a polite façade onto his face. Apparently his day was _just_ as shitty as he’d feared.

He gave Dayton another, less sexually-charged, once-over. So. _This_ was the BSI agent responsible for at least four of the recent wolf disappearances in the past year. Well, the Trust was hoping they were disappearances, hoping that they could still be found and reunited with their families and packs. Oliver felt that was extremely unlikely, however, given the connection to the BSI and to Dayton and his partner, Jefferson, in particular. Although the BSI was full of agents who, once they’d become ‘aware,’ had leapt at the opportunity to enact a twisted form of vigilante justice against wolves, Dayton and Jefferson were well-known as the nastiest of the lot.

When the Trust had realised that the disappearances weren’t random, they’d connected a number of them to cases where the wolves had been apprehended by the BSI. After presenting their findings to BSI leadership, they’d begun quietly questioning the (very) small handful of BSI agents who’d proven themselves loyal to the stated objectives of the BSI. The Trust agents hadn’t even needed to direct the interviews toward Dayton and Jefferson. Every single BSI agent they’d spoken to had brought up those very names in expressing their concerns about the spread of bigotry and misinformation. One had even gone so far as to declare that, although they hadn’t been actively involved in the massacre at Syracuse, they were the ones who’d planted the seeds.

Special Agent in Charge Santiago had maintained that Dayton had a solid investigative background, claiming that he’d often voiced concerns to her about how the BSI was managing cases and saying he wasn’t as openly anti-wolf as Jefferson, but Oliver didn’t buy it. Of the two, Dayton had the stronger motive and Oliver didn’t think it was a coincidence that the werewolf who’d attacked him, Jacob Symer, was the first of the missing werewolves they could tie to BSI involvement. He wondered if Dayton had gotten swept up in the thrill of enacting some perverse revenge fantasy and then needed to keep going after wolves for his next high. He could believe that Dayton wasn’t doing the heavy lifting, and the too-slender frame Oliver had noted earlier made physically overpowering wolves improbable, but with Jefferson’s help?

Dayton certainly didn’t look like a threat but, then again, that tracked. Oliver wondered furiously how many wolves Dayton had lulled into a false sense of security before his partner brutally took them down. His stomach roiled as it occurred to him that the ‘aw shucks’ awkwardness might all be an act, that Dayton might actually take an active role in the proceedings. He couldn’t imagine anyone but a sociopath participating in the execution of innocent wolves, no matter the provocation. He squashed the impulse to bare his fangs at Dayton and see if his blatant lust transformed into bigoted disgust, or if his eyes lit up at the prospect of another kill. He wouldn’t find Oliver such an easy mark, that was for damn sure. 

Dayton, seemingly oblivious to Oliver’s turmoil, was still talking, still _flirting_. He held out his free hand. “Maybe we can save that shake for another time.”

It took Oliver a moment to realise what Dayton was talking about, and he blinked at the realisation that he was still touching this piece of human filth. He withdrew his hand sharply, ignoring Dayton’s other hand where it hung between them. He’d have to get enough of a grip on himself to manage a handshake in the meeting, it was human tradition after all, but he wasn’t about to subject himself to it more times than necessary. The idea of touching Dayton again, combined with the memory of the caress he’d so recently bestowed, made his skin crawl.

“Maybe.” Oliver clenched his jaw to keep from yelling, knowing that as soon as Dayton learned who he was, this attraction would fizzle and die. He needed to get out of this conversation ASAP. “Excuse me.”

Dayton’s face was a picture of confusion, embarrassment, and disappointment. Oliver felt his protective instincts try to push their way forward again and ruthlessly shoved them back. It didn’t matter if he was upset. Regardless of what Oliver’s wolf was telling him, this man was _not_ pack. Dayton’s feelings couldn’t possibly be more than a pale echo of the pandemonium going on in Oliver’s own heart and, quite frankly, the only thing _Dayton_ needed shielding from at this point was Oliver himself.

He’d never been so wrong before. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. There was one other time that everything he’d known about himself, and his pack, and his instincts had proven to be utterly incorrect. Oliver supposed he should count himself lucky that his error had been made clear to him up front this time, saving him a second round of devastation.

He didn’t feel lucky, though. He felt unmoored, adrift, and lonelier than he had in months. To have found that instant connection with someone, that soul-deep certainty that this person was pack, only to discover that he was the furthest thing from that… He reminded himself that nothing had really changed and that he didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity. Whatever he may have thought he felt had been fleeting. It’s not like any of the fantasy scenarios he’d concocted had actually played out. He didn’t know Dayton and he refused to feel that flash of hurt at the thought that he hopefully never would.

For once he was glad of the tight press of other people in the crowd as he strode toward the BSI headquarters. He had no idea how he would manage to pretend willingness to work with this asshole and he wanted all the time he could get to master himself before his formal introduction to Dayton. He was so completely fucked.


	2. reaching a fever pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's PoV in the car ride after dinner at The Ancient Mariner

Oliver almost couldn’t believe this was happening. The past few days had been a whirlwind of shifting expectations, unravelling all of his assumptions and calling things he’d always taken for granted into question. He wasn’t sure if he’d passed through the storm, mostly unscathed, or if this was just the lull of the eye and everything would be up in the air again momentarily. He hoped, though, oh how he hoped that they were finally moving in the right direction.

He was ninety-nine percent sure they were heading back to the motel to fuck and his body was so very ready for this. His desire was simmering at a fever pitch, his skin felt hot and tight, and his senses were in overdrive. It was a good thing Cooper didn’t seem to want to talk right now, since Oliver wasn’t sure he’d be able to manage much more than grunting. He wanted Cooper so badly; had wanted him since the first moment he’d seen him, rumpled and coffee stained and reeking of greasy breakfast sandwich.

His instincts had immediately identified Cooper as safe. Oliver didn’t like to admit it, even to himself, but Cooper had felt more than safe. He’d felt like pack and Oliver had waited so long to have that again. He thought wryly of how lovely life would have been if he’d been able to trust that feeling, to trust himself. The combination of his family’s betrayal and the evidence the Trust had gathered against Cooper had served to douse those feelings in ice water, leaving him anxious and doubting. He’d been so ashamed that part of him had still wanted Cooper when it seemed he was the evil mastermind behind the rising toll of wolves missing-and-presumed dead.

Thankfully, he’d been able to deduce early on that there was no way that Cooper was the BSI unsub, neither on his own nor in conjunction with Jefferson. He’d worried at first that his attraction had biased him but his conviction had only grown as he’d observed the way Cooper investigated the case. Oliver had assumed that he would attempt to arrest the first wolf they came across and leave it at that. He’d been prepared to fight, quite literally tooth and nail, against any unjust treatment of wolves but Cooper just kept surprising him. He had clearly been fed some stereotypical bullshit but, more and more, he was leaving that behind. In fact, he seemed genuinely interested in getting at the truth of what was going on, even if it meant the evidence _wasn’t_ pointing to a big bad wolf.

Not surprisingly, the problem with removing Cooper from the pool of suspects was that now Oliver’s growing feelings were becoming harder and harder to ignore. He longed for the chance to show Cooper how well they’d mesh as partners in ways beyond the professional. Every time he thought he was making headway, though, Cooper shut him out or, worse, shut him down. He seemed determined to pretend he wasn’t interested. Oliver didn’t know what, exactly, was holding Cooper back but there was a long list of potential reasons and their professional relationship was likely right at the top. 

Oliver, on the other hand, felt none of the human qualms about mixing professional and personal relationships, especially as he couldn’t shake his initial sense that Cooper was pack. Clearing Cooper as a suspect may have shown that his instincts were still sharp but he was beginning to doubt his ability to interpret Cooper’s scent and body language. Whenever Oliver expressed concern or a wish to support Cooper, he lashed out.

Initially, Oliver had chalked it up to some bullshit toxic masculinity posturing and, though there was definitely an element of that, he thought he’d started to see past that. He could tell that Cooper was terrified of being vulnerable. He refused to admit any weakness, as though he was determined to prove himself to any and everyone. Oliver wanted to show him he truly admired his strength and fortitude, at least when he wasn’t on the verge of throttling the stubborn, prickly asshole. Maybe the problem was that he was projecting his _own_ desperate need for a deeper connection onto Cooper.

Cooper seemed so determined to prove himself on this case. Even before the conversation at dinner, Oliver had known the case, and the lack of solid leads, was wearing on Cooper. He also didn’t seem to be eating or sleeping properly. They were under so much pressure to make this work and tonight had only reinforced just how little progress they’d made, at least in terms of gathering evidence on the wolf killings in Florence.

Oliver had taken him out in the hopes of getting him to relax and ensuring he ate a full meal. Those aspects of the venture had been a success, at least, but that only underlined the fact that Cooper needed to take better care of himself. The dark circles under his eyes had only gotten worse as time passed and he still had a haunted look in his eyes when Oliver managed to catch him unawares. 

Not for the first time, he wished Cooper would let him in. They’d been working so well together and he clearly trusted Oliver with his physical self. He sent up a quick prayer of thanks that Cooper had called to him when he’d fallen. The thought of Cooper stuck in that crevice... His hackles rose and a low growl escaped before he could stop it. When he found out who had untied that rope—well, he hoped there wasn’t anyone around at that moment who would expect him to follow human laws.

Thoughts of Cooper in the crevice inevitably led him to thoughts of what had happened afterward. Of Cooper locking their gazes together and kissing Oliver’s hand. He shivered, remembering the feel of Cooper’s soft, hot tongue against his skin. He had to hope there would be many more opportunities to discover what else Cooper liked to do with his tongue. 

He was still confused about what had happened after that kiss. Once again, Cooper had withdrawn into himself and shut Oliver out and it had _hurt_. It hadn’t been the first time, and likely wouldn’t be the last, that Cooper had pulled back but something about that kiss had changed things for Oliver. It had brought his own suppressed yearnings to the surface and he hadn’t been able to tamp them back into place. Even though Cooper had attempted to reopen dialogue, Oliver hadn’t been able to push past the pain of disappointment and focus on the case.

The back and forth had been driving him mad. There wasn’t any question that Cooper wanted to fuck him, that much at least Oliver was sure of. Well, as sure as he could be about anything where Cooper was concerned. He knew that, much like Oliver himself, Cooper had felt this attraction since that first awkward meeting on the metro. He knew that Cooper had continued to want him, despite the fact that Oliver was a wolf. At least, he hoped it was _despite_ the wolf.

Part of him fretted that, perhaps, Cooper wanted him _because_ he was a wolf, that he got off on the idea in an awful fetishising sort of way. Oliver’s gut was telling him Cooper’s attraction was to _him_ and not just to his wolf. Maybe he just wanted to convince himself that Cooper’s raw desire had a more palatable form.

Then again, what else would explain the thrill he’d sensed from Cooper when he’d mentioned his pre-Trust life? He hadn’t missed the tell-tale scent of arousal, nor the way Cooper had shifted in his seat to hide his erection. Whereas when they’d discussed the pain and inconvenience of shifting, Cooper’s excitement had been the wonder and curiosity of a kid in a magic shop. He clearly wanted to know more—he eagerly soaked up every meagre tidbit of information Oliver doled out—but he hadn’t been aroused. Scents didn’t lie the way words and body language could.

Speaking of scents, Oliver’s eyes lost focus as he was hit with another wave of Cooper’s arousal. He swallowed and rolled his window down a crack. Normally, he hated having any windows down while he drove. He couldn’t stand the cacophony and the pressure. Tonight, however, the air felt good on his face, clean and cool, and helped clear his head a bit. He only just managed to refrain from sticking his nose out into the night air. Cooper seemed to be unpacking his initial issues with wolves but it was definitely a work in progress and he didn’t want to do anything that might call his humanity into question.

The attraction sizzled between them and Oliver rolled the window down even further. He needed to keep his head and he couldn’t do that surrounded by the overwhelming scent of Cooper’s arousal. If this kept up, Oliver wasn’t sure he’d be able to get them back to the motel without pouncing on Cooper which, he reminded himself sternly, wasn’t a good idea considering Cooper’s earlier injuries.

Part of him felt like it was inevitable, they’d been moving toward this moment since that first meeting on the metro but the circumstances had never been quite right until tonight. Well, he hoped they were right. He couldn’t ignore the anxious voice in his head telling him Cooper was probably going to flip flop once more. If precedent was anything to go by, by the time they got back to the motel, Cooper would be back to pushing him away.

Which was _fine_. If Cooper changed his mind, Oliver would manage. It wasn’t like he didn’t have his own internal battle waging about this and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to take himself in hand during this case.

He felt a fond smile began to play at the corners of his lips and Oliver glanced over to see Cooper staring out the window, his leg bouncing frenetically. Actually, his whole body was practically vibrating with energy and Oliver felt his heart thumping in time.

With Cooper’s attention elsewhere, Oliver allowed his smile to sneak out and his gaze to linger a moment. He loved looking at Cooper. Every time Cooper caught him at it, his hackles seemed to go up. It baffled Oliver that someone so obviously desperate for a connection, for a chance to care and be cared for, was so hell-bent on denying himself—on denying them.

They really were a ridiculous pair, both of them clearly Schrödinger’s desire. The trouble was that Oliver knew why _he_ felt conflicted but the reasons behind Cooper’s changeable temper were as yet unclear. If he could just figure out how to get Cooper to let down his emotional guard, he _knew_ he could convince him they could have a real future.

Then again, he wasn’t exactly offering up himself as an open book. He felt a momentary twinge of guilt that Cooper didn’t seem to suspect that there was more than one investigation going on and squashed it ruthlessly. The Trust’s evidence had pointed directly at Cooper and they’d all learned the hard way that humans were deadlier than they appeared, especially when driven by fear.

He’d known that Cooper had been attacked by a werewolf but it had still been a shock to feel the extent of the ropey strands of scar tissue on Cooper’s belly. The sight of them had been even harder to take and he’d been forced to concede that Cooper might have had good reason to be afraid of wolves. Those scars troubled Oliver. Symer had been the wolf who’d attacked Cooper and the first missing wolf they could link to the BSI. Cooper may not be the unsub but he was definitely connected and Oliver needed to understand how.

He pulled into the parking lot and turned off the ignition. Cooper’s leg stopped its twitching as he sat up. He blinked slowly and turned a heavy-lidded gaze on Oliver, his lust palpable. Suddenly Oliver’s need for more information about Cooper’s past felt momentarily irrelevant. All his musings about what Cooper wanted beyond sex had become distant and immaterial. They got out of the car and walked up to Cooper’s door, heat crackling between them.

Oliver waited for Cooper to say something, do something, to indicate what he wanted but there was nothing forthcoming. Alright. Maybe this wasn’t going to happen tonight. He tried unsuccessfully to resign himself to the fact that it might never happen. Well, he didn’t have to let go of the idea just yet. He would have plenty of time to get used to it once they figured out what was going on in Florence and he was back to his main objective of finding the unsub within the BSI.

However much he was willing to back off on the sex, though, someone _had_ tried to kill Cooper today and he couldn’t just leave without making sure he felt safe.

“Do you think you’re in danger?” he asked.

Cooper looked at him blankly, then at the door. “The lock looks untouched,” he replied. He fumbled out his key, wobbling more than Oliver liked, and opened his door, clearly planning to go right on inside.

Oliver stopped him. “Wait here,” he ordered. He checked the room over carefully but there didn’t seem to be anyone inside and he wasn’t picking up any new scents. He reluctantly headed back outside to Cooper. “All clear.”

Cooper nodded. “Good.”

Oliver waited for another moment, unable to entirely suppress the hope that Cooper still wanted him, that Cooper would invite him in.

“Well,” he said, trying not to let his disappointment show. “Goodnight, Dayton.

“Wait,” Cooper said.

Oliver paused. Cooper probably just wanted to coordinate schedules for tomorrow or something. There was something about his tone, however, that had Oliver waiting on a razor edge to hear whatever he said next.

“Aren’t you going to check under the bed?”

Oliver raised his gaze to Cooper’s, trying to decipher what was happening. Did he mean ... ? Cooper looked back at him, pupils blown wide with desire, the scent of his desire coming off him in waves once more, and that was all the confirmation Oliver needed. He grabbed a hold of Cooper, got him inside the room, got the door closed, and Cooper up against it. There was less than an inch between them, Cooper’s lips were so close and Oliver wanted nothing more than to finally taste them. He needed Cooper to give him something first; something that made his consent as clear as his desire. He couldn’t stop his hips from rocking forward into Cooper’s without his conscious intention but he managed to hold himself back from anything more.

If Cooper would only let him, he was going to take such good care of him, he was going to show him just how good this could be between them. He was more than willing to take control, to give Cooper what they both so desperately needed, what he knew Cooper would struggle to articulate, but he needed to be sure.

Just when he thought he might combust with unrequited need, Cooper grabbed him by the back of the head and brought their lips together in a hot kiss. It wasn’t quite the verbal assurance Oliver wanted but it was easy enough to forget that in the feel of Cooper’s mouth. Maybe Cooper wouldn’t give him everything but, tonight at least, he was giving Oliver this and Oliver accepted it gladly.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[commentary] Making of "I've Heard One on You"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350698) by [olive2read](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olive2read/pseuds/olive2read)




End file.
